


The Wellspring of His Folks

by kaijusizefeels



Series: Something Ends, Something Begins [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Ofier, Ofieri, Protective Emhyr, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28040004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijusizefeels/pseuds/kaijusizefeels
Summary: Geralt goes to Nilfgaard with Emhyr. An envoy from Ofier was waiting for the emperor.Please read the first three-part of the series. The stories are all interconnected.
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Something Ends, Something Begins [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915156
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

Emhyr’s vacation ended when they left Corvo Bianco, for he immediately started working on a stack of letters inside the carriage. Geralt got bored soon after and hopped out. He meant to ride out ahead to scout, but a group of Impera Brigade guards called him over. 

As it turned out, some of them served in the North and had heard of Geralt of Rivia by way of Dandelion’s ballads. They wanted to know if he had seen or done the things in the songs. 

Geralt answered their questions simply and tried to disabuse them of their fancier notions about witchers. It was just as well that the guards decided to engage him in conversations because their itinerary was a long one; it was a much more circuitous route compared to Emhyr’s arrival to Toussaint. 

Geralt was the reason for the change in travel plans. 

Emhyr had insisted on hearing his account of what happened in Beauclair; Geralt kept Regis’s role in the entire affair peripheral and unspecific. The emperor’s face was grave as he listened. Surprisingly, Emhyr was more concerned about bruxas than higher vampires.

“Regardless of his power, Dettlaff van Der Eretein, as you said, promised to bother the world no more, “ Emhyr explained. “But this bruxa, Orianna, managed to amass both wealth and power for herself. She has infiltrated Toussaint’s upper class so completely that she was able to disappear without a trace before she could be arrested. The Ducal guards even searched the orphanage she was running.”

Geralt growled. 

“The children are all alive, though traumatized,” Emhyr assured him. “I’ve asked the Duchess to see that they are placed in good homes.

Geralt nodded, “give me a contract. I will kill her.” 

“I have little doubt. My men will spare no effort to track her down. Meanwhile, we have another problem. We have no idea how many other vampires have also decided to infiltrate human society, particularly in the provinces. Ostensibly, I would let it be known that I am interested in touring the more remote parts of the empire while you—“

“Poke around and see what comes up,” Geralt finished for him.

“Exactly.”

* * *

The caravan made its first official stop at Solariega in Caravista. Geralt had an inkling that something was odd when the stablemaster personally saw to Roach while the rest of the convoy was still being unloaded. 

What cinched his suspicion was the fact that he and the Emperor of Nilfgaard were shown to the grandest bedroom in Solariega Manor, _together_. 

“Ah, it seemed that I underestimated how quickly rumors could travel outside of Toussaint,” Emhyr noted the single large bed in the room wryly. 

Geralt walked over to the side closest to the door and dropped down onto the plush mattress. He glared at Emhyr. 

The emperor was little bothered. “But this has its advantages too,” Emhyr said before he leaned down for a kiss. “Boots off the bed, Geralt.”

Since there was no need for any pretense, Geralt didn’t bother keeping his mouth shut when Emhyr fucked him roughly and thoroughly across those fancy sheets. If he suddenly decided to show a bit more enthusiasm in wanting to test the soundproofing of manor house walls, he considered it payback.

* * *

Geralt had expected awkwardness and dirty looks from the nobles only to realize that, like in Toussaint, southerners didn’t know what to make of a witcher. He was an unknown oddity to them, but since they have all heard that Geralt was important to the emperor, they could not be dismissive of him— even worse, some nobles were fascinated by him.

This meant that Geralt was officially invited to all the gatherings in honor of the imperial tour, where he had to endure the numerous attempts of the local lords and ladies to gather him in small talks. Invariably, he was either badgered for the umpteenth time with questions about his vineyard— most of which he couldn’t answer— or was asked about his singular appearance. 

“Sir Geralt, your eyes are so unique. How did you come by them?” 

“They were the results of mutation by ingesting painful poisons. I would not recommend it.”

Polite, awkward tittering would ensue. Someone would say something like, “you jest, Sir Geralt. We no idea that northerners could be so comical” before Geralt would be subjected to a new round of questions.

Emhyr, the bastard, was content to watch Geralt shoulder the bulk of the nobles’ attention while he discretely prodded the lord of the manor about strange occurrences or odd disappearances.

This was _not_ what Geralt agreed to.

Unfortunately, whatever rumors were spreading amongst Nilfgaardian nobilities only seemed to grow wilder the further south they traveled. ‘Sir Geralt’ was said with more and more deference. Some people even started _curtsying_ to him in Gammera. 

* * *

A short distance from Nilfgaard’s city walls, the caravan met up with a sizable contingent of Impera Brigade guards led by General Voorhis.

“White wolf! It is good to see you again,” the general said as he pulled his horse alongside Geralt.

“Greetings, General. Are your campaigns in the north over?” 

“There are still small pockets of Redanian resistance here and there. But I have no doubt that we will rout them before the year’s end,” the general stated assuredly. “You have arrived at a good time to catch the sunset over the Alba.”

Geralt had thought that he meant they would cross the river as they enter the city gate. He was surprised when instead, General Voorhis directed the caravan toward an inconspicuous merchant boat. They boarded with their original guards while the general escorted the now empty imperial carriage toward the city gate.

* * *

The setting sun turned the water of the river Alba into liquid gold. Geralt stood at the helm and watched their boat deftly navigated through the waterway, making sure to keep a sufficiently large distance from all the other vessels. 

Emhyr came over and stood beside him. “Tell me, Witcher, what do you see?” the emperor asked.

Geralt squinted at the mass of white marble structures rising into view. He was a poor judge of human cities. His entire thought on Novigrad was smelly. Beauclair had been hilly. So far, of what little he has seen of Nilfgaard—“shiny,” he said simply.

This elicited a bark of laughter from Emhyr. “Geralt,” he shook his head fondly.

Ciri had given him the same exasperated look hundreds of times before, Geralt realized with a pang.

To distract himself, he asked as he pointed to a cluster of towers off in the distance, “are those domes really gold?”

Emhyr shook his head. “No, that would be an egregious waste. Most are merely painted to look golden. But the great dome atop the Church of the Great Sun is all gilded in gold. The priests then decided to clad the entire interior of the church in gold as well. A fire destroyed the building a few years after its completion. The Church naturally insisted that a grander replacement must be built, but they had problems sourcing all that gold.” 

“My great grandfather, Torres Var Emeris, saw an opportunity to consolidate both political and religious power under his rule; he secured the position of the High Priest of the Great Sun in exchange for providing the gold for gilding the new church. To this day, the Emperor remains the head of the Church of the Great Sun, though that role is mostly ceremonial now.”

Geralt looked out onto the shoreline again and saw the same things, just a city. Maybe Ciri would be able to see something he couldn’t. 

“Good to know,” Geralt grunted. “I hate to think that I’ve been fucking a man of the cloth.”

* * *

Their boat didn’t stay in the main waterway for long. Instead, it quickly veered off to a side passage and went through a series of well-guarded canals before it eventually docking at an inconspicuous boat slip. Another group of Impera Brigade guards was already waiting. 

“Gloir aen Ard Feainn (Praise the Great Sun),” the commander raised a fist to his chest in salute.

Geralt deduced that they must have taken the back way onto the palace ground. He disembarked with Emhyr, who was immediately swarmed by courtiers armed with briefs, each wanting a slice of the emperor’s attention. 

The witcher drifted back so he could carefully study his surroundings despite that night has already fallen. The towering trees gave a sense of wilderness, but Geralt could see small signs that everything was carefully arranged and maintained by an army of groundskeepers and gardeners. Still, most people would have thought that they were in the middle of a forest rather than on the palace ground; it was also probably designed that an ill-informed intruder could easily be turned around in the woods.

Slowly, the landscape changed to something more akin to the fanciful, well-maintained gardens that Geralt had seen in Beauclair Palace. But he was distracted momentarily from his survey when he heard a courtier informing Emhyr that an envoy from Ofier was seeking an audience with the Emperor of Nilfgaard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much trouble writing this chapter. I think it's because nothing happens in it but for some reason, my brain refused to let me skip the return trip. Anyhow, hopefully, the rest of the chapters will be quicker to write/edit.
> 
> Then in the middle, I realized that it would be cool to see Geralt and Emhyr trying to hunt down Orianna through Nilfgaard but unfortunately, I can't deviate from the original plotline. Maybe there will be a side story.
> 
> Also, 2020 struck again, and I managed to break a toe. Nothing else to do but to sit on my bum and write/read for now.


	2. Chapter 2

“I have housed Sir Geralt in the Valencia Suite as you instructed,” Mererid told Emhyr as he helped the emperor change out of his travel clothes. 

“Very good, Mererid.” 

Despite the wild imaginings of Nilfgaardian nobles, Emhyr did not intend to room Geralt in the suite connected to his, the one that he would have given Pavetta. The Valencia Suite had been prepared for Ciri, but it would serve for Geralt in the meantime. 

He knew that all this attention on rooms in the Imperial Palace would be lost to the witcher. His courtiers, however, would take notice, and maybe they will finally turn their attention back to the affairs of the state instead.

“Do you wish to invite Sir Geralt to your bedchamber tonight?” Mererid asked.

“No.”

The chamberlain’s eyebrows knitted together, then briefly dropped lower than usual. Mererid was too professional to say anything but Emhyr could tell that, at the least, he disapproved of the change in routine. 

And possibly, Mererid was no longer yearning for any sort of falling out between Emhyr and Geralt, not since Corvo Bianco.

“But ask Geralt If he wishes to break his fast with me tomorrow morning.” Mererid bowed and was about to exit when Emhyr remembered. “Send for the Ofier envoy, and then you may retire.”

* * *

“Your Imperial Majesty, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd.” The Ofier envoy, a bright-eyed man, dressed in a richly embroidered long-sleeved kaftan, bowed and spread his arms wide in greeting; his Nilfgaardian was very good. “Bless the water that flows between us. I am Hatun Khorram-Din, a humble servant of his Most Gracious Majesty Malliq Nibras, the Wellspring of his Folk.”

“I bring an invitation from Malliq Nibras. His majesty hoped to make up for any offense his servants might have caused during the unfortunate incident some time ago. He invites your imperial majesty and your Amat, Sir Geralt of Rivia, to the Roving Oasis of Al-Ahsa in the hope of forging better ties between our two great empires.”

“Your majesty has no doubt heard of Al-Ahsa, one of the most fantastical wonders of the Continent. Its constantly changing location in the Korath desert is one of the most well-guarded secrets in Ofier, known only to Malliq Nibras and his confidants.”

“The oasis often served as a stately retreat for the royal family and for those who have excelled in their service to the malliq in some fashion. Your imperial majesty and your Amat would be the first outsiders invited to set foot in Al-Ahsa. It is the greatest of honor.” The emissary finished and dipped his head respectfully. His posture was relaxed, open.

But Hatun soon grew nervous at Emhyr’s continued silence, so he hurriedly added.

“The Roving Oasis is currently at its northernmost location. It will only be a day and a half’s journey from Nilfgaard’s southern border. Malliq Nibras will personally guarantee, on his water and the honor of his ancestors, your majesty’s safety. In addition to Sir Geralt, your majesty may bring anyone you feel is necessary to ensure your welfare. So long as the group is no larger than fifteen individuals,” the emissary quickly amended, just in case the Nilfgaard Emperor decided to use this as an excuse to show up with an army.

Emhyr thought carefully. His spies had passed on tales of the roving oasis and the going-on within it. None of them, however, had figured out how the Ofieri managed to predict the location of where it appeared next. 

More importantly, he wanted to know if Malliq Nibras considered the death of Prince Sirvat to be paid for or if Ofier still had unfinished businesses with Geralt. This, more than anything else, made up Emhyr’s mind.

Outwardly though, he said to the envoy, “I will consider your request and give you an answer tomorrow.”

* * *

“The pups have gotten big. The kennel master swears up and down that they are too smart for wolves. I think they’ve trained him instead of the other way around.” Geralt said, without a single gesture of courtesy, as he walked through the parlor door. 

He threw himself into the chair across from Emhyr. “You look like you barely slept.”

Emhyr grunted and swigged his morning tea, as black and bitter as tar.

Perhaps he had miscalculated how much he had gotten used to sharing a bed with Geralt these past few weeks.

“The Ofieri envoy, anything I should worry about?” Geralt asked as he slathered his bread thickly with honey and butter.

“Malliq Nibras has invited us to join him at an oasis in the middle of the Korath desert. I was told that this is a great honor.”

Geralt frowned. “Us? You and me? Why would the Ofieri want to see me again?”

“Your presence is requested because we are lovers.”

Emhyr waited a beat for Geralt’s reaction. However, with his cheeks bulging with bread, the witcher was currently too busy making his best impression of an avaricious hamster to contribute to the conversation.

So Emhyr pressed ahead, “I have my doubts that the death of Prince Sirvat has been completely resolved; the prince had been one of Nibras’ potential successor.”

Geralt swallowed the mass of food with an audible gulp. “Don’t accept it,” he said immediately. “Prince Sirvat’s death was my fault.” He laid a hand on top of Emhyr’s. “There is no need for you to continue to be involved in it.”

“And yet,” Emhyr muttered while he re-familiarized himself with the span and the roughness of Geralt’s palm. “The malliq made it my business when his men tried to abduct you. It is safer to see what Nibras is planning than to pretend that everything has been settled.”

When he looked up, the Geralt was staring at him. Without a word, the white-haired man walked over and dropped onto Emhyr's lap. Then the uncouth witcher, with honey still smeared on his lips and bread crumbs all over his robe, leaned in and kissed the Emperor of Nilfgaard.

“Morning,” he breathed huskily.

Emhyr shoved the rest of his breakfast aside so he could satisfy an entirely different sort of hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wished the game took us to Ofier. But it didn't, so I made up a bunch of stuff. I took inspiration for Ofieri culture from Dune, and real-world Turkish/Arabic cultures, etc. 
> 
> The internet tells me that there was a comic where Geralt and Dandelion go to Ofier; that's where I got some of the characters and the 'Wellspring of his Folk' title from.
> 
> Emhyr kind of went back to being an idiot. Thankfully Geralt learned to speak emperor now. I love comments and speculations on where the story is going; maybe it will give me more ideas :D


End file.
